They started to move again, but Lifeng’s legs suddenly went soft and she slumped, unable to walk. The others screamed at her to stop this nonsense, there was no time. Her eyes were blank, and Xiongmin understood. She was trapped in that single moment, when her body had assumed the position it had been taught in a thousand drills, and a spiderweb of red had spread across the enemy’s throat before exploding horribly.

He took her shoulders. “You had to,” he said. “If the Thais left us alone, we wouldn’t bother them. This jungle is our home. If people come into our home, we have to defend ourselves.” Plain words, he sensed, would be more use here than any number of revolutionary slogans.

“We could have taken him prisoner,” she whispered. “What if he has a family? We could have kept him alive.”

“How long could we hold him?” said the patrol leader. “We can barely feed ourselves. And look.” He opened the map. “See what he was doing. Each red circle here is a land mine. He was laying them.” The soldier’s bag stood open, a tangle of metal and wires. “These ones here, they’re not designed to kill. They have a charge but no shrapnel, so they’ll only blow your feet off. They want to leave the victims alive, just crippled, so they become burdens on us. How could a human being think so cruelly? Are you still sorry you killed him?”

“I never—” Lifeng cleared her throat. “I never said I was sorry. Of course I’m not. It was my duty.” She rose, shakily, to her feet.

“You’re a good person,” said Xiongmin, which seemed inadequate, but exactly what she needed to hear. She rested her hand, just for a moment, on his arm, and looked like she wanted to lean against him.

They hid the dead soldier in some undergrowth and went back the way they came. They would make their report, and be praised for their bravery. Lifeng would receive a special commendation for her part, though she would be wise to self-confess her moment of weakness too. This would make them all stronger. They tramped on, the rear line obscuring their footprints, leaving no trace behind as the jungle swallowed them again.

4

Revathi

Revathi stomped down St Martin’s Lane, cursing the frost on the pavement, the sharp chill in the air, everything. February had reached the point when it seemed entirely probable that winter might go on forever. Even the brief hours of daylight were grey and besmirched. A man in a bowler hat walked right into her, as if it were her job to get out of his way. She smiled blandly at him, tamping down the impulse to drive her umbrella into his foot, and thought fuck it, this day can go to hell. She’d been headed back to the office, but now swerved into the Nag’s Head, where the boys were usually to be found.